


A Little Help

by nerdcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdcas/pseuds/nerdcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of 8.21, The Great Escapist, Supernatural. Eventual Destiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

“A little help here?” Castiel breathes out hoarsely towards the brothers.

Dean shoots a desperate glance at Sam, making sure that what he is seeing in front of him was real. There was Cas, beaten and bloody, lying on the asphalt, just feet away from being road kill by the Impala. Cas had been missing in action ever since they found the angel tablet. He had vanished into thin air, right in front of Dean, leaving without even saying goodbye. Castiel had said that he needed to protect the tablet from not only Naomi, but from Dean as well… 

Dean dashes towards Cas with his strong bowlegs, making as large as strides as possible to make it to Cas. Sam is barely functioning, his body failing in every way; these trials are taking a toll on his body in ways that the Winchesters ever imagined they could. Sam attempts to keep up with Dean, but his strength doesn’t even let him make it past the hood of the Impala before Sam becomes weak at the knees. Cas reaches Castiel, grabbing his face with both hands, stretching his face towards his.

“Cas?! Hey, hey, hey, stay with me, Cas!” Dean exclaims, surveying Cas’ body, noticing there is blood all over his white undershirt, soaked and stained red. He has rough patches all over his face and skin… Whoever had gotten their hands on the angel had really dug into him…

“I’m okay, Dean. I just require… some shelter to recharge…and heal myself.” Castiel says in a raspy, deep voice that is all too familiar to Dean.

“What the hell happened to you, Cas?! Where have you been?” Dean questions.

“I was… protecting the tablet. It’s gone now… Crowley has it… I’m so sorry Dean... I thought that I could protect it from him…” Castiel breathes out painfully, wincing at every move and breath he takes. 

“Screw the tablet, Cas… Hold on to me.” Dean wiggles his left arm under the curve of the angel’s knees, gripping him at the knees tightly. He then curves his arm around Castiel’s back until he has a firm hold on Cas, and then Dean lifts him up from the ground. Dean turns around, wounded angel in his arms, and looks to his brother while Castiel clings to Dean’s shoulders for support.

“Sammy! Help me get him in the back!” Dean gulped, as he rushed towards the still running Impala. He tries to carefully settle Castiel in the back seat, hoping that he isn’t hurting the angel during the difficult shuffle to set him inside the car. Dean and Sam climb back into the Impala, and gas it down the road they were on originally. 

“Were gunna have to find a room for the night… Cas is in bad shape, Sam, and so are you… We can’t be traveling like this…” Dean’s face is flushed white with worry for his passengers, two people are pretty much the last bit of family he has… and he can’t seem to be able to keep either of them safe and healthy. Sam stares back at his brother with a knowing glare, his eyes glazed slightly with fatigue….

\---------------------------------------------------- 

Dean pulls up to the motel in the Impala, coming to an abrupt stop. He runs inside and attempts to rent a room.

“Hey, I need a room. Three beds.” Dean barks at the clerk at the desk.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we only have one and two bedrooms left, we have a low selection of three bedded rooms, and they are all full.” The small woman informs him. 

“Are you kidding me?! Fine I will take the two beds.” Dean mumbles to the girl, scowling as he pays down the cash and swipes the keys from her hand.

Dean rushes back outside, dashing to the door to their room, propping the door open to be able to get Sam and Cas inside. He goes back to the Impala, opening Sam’s door.

“Sammy, you need to get out of the car, go to the room, Room 7. C’mon, let’s go.” He snapped at Sam. Sam wearily slides out of the passenger seat of the Impala, frowning as the pain and tiredness ripple through him, making his shaky and wobbly. Sam manages to finally grasp onto the door threshold, and shuffle himself towards one of the two beds in the room. Outside the room, Dean is sliding his arms back around Cas’ body, firmly holding onto him as he lifts him from the back seat. He gently slides him out though the metal framed door of the Impala, and then slams the passenger door shut with a firm kick. 

“its okay, Cas, I got you. Don’t worry.” Dean mutters lightly, just barely loud enough for Cas to hear…

Dean manages to get through the doorway, and hurries toward the bed that isn’t occupied by a giant moose of a sick man that is his brother Sam. Dean sets Cas down on the free bed, and looks him over once more… The angel’s reflexes are slowed, he can barely move or talk; wincing and whimpering every time that he moves more than an inch. Dean struggles to know what to do... It is so rare that Castiel ever actually needs someone else to help him when he is hurt. 

After contemplating a few moments, Dean decides that it’s best to get to the source of his pain. Dean sees the blood-soaked growing circle on Cas’ abdomen. He can tell Cas doesn’t have the strength to explain what happened to him. Dean grabs for the trench coat, tugging the blood splattered sleeves down Cas’ arms. Dean lifts Cas up just enough to sneak the coat out from underneath him. Dean manages to remove the suit jacket, also, and then he grabs the wrong-sided blue tie that the angel always wore. He loops his finger inside the knot of the tie, gently undoing it, and then he snakes the tie out from around Cas’ neck. He slowly unbuttons the white dress shirt that he always is wearing. He fumbles with the buttons a few times, feeling slightly off put by getting the angel undressed without him knowing fully. Dean shakes it off, knowing he needs to find the source of what’s hurting Cas’; weakening him. 

Dean unbuttons the last button and flings the sides open of the shirt. There is a gaping hole on Cas’ left side, and it looked almost like…. A bullet wound? Dean’s eyes open wide, wondering how in the world Castiel could have possibly been hurt by a bullet from a gun… Dean had stabbed him with a knife the first time they met; he would think that a gun would have had the same effect… 

How was he supposed to help Cas? It’s hard to know what to do next when it’s your healer that is the one that needs the healing. Dean jumps up, runs towards the bathroom, and shuffles around till he finds a first aid kit. She snatches the peroxide out of the box, and sits back down next to Cas on the bed.

“Sorry… This might hurt a bit….” Dean mumbled to Cas’, not sure if he can even hear him anymore…

Dean opens the bottle of peroxide, and places his free hand softly around the wound; his had resting on Cas’ midsection right next to Cas’ bellybutton. He then begins to pour the liquid over Castiel’s wound. He notices it isn’t really reacting to the hole, but at least the liquid is cleaning and clearing out the blood, leaving it disinfected and much clearer what damage had been done… Dean then realizes after he had poured the liquid on Cas’ stomach, that he had never moved his hand off from Cas’ body. His body was telling him to move his hand but he just kept it there, liking having a stable area of the angel grounded by his grasp on his skin… Dean daringly ventures his eyes other places….   
He looks slowly up and down the hurt angel, taking in every detail of his body… the curve of the V in his hip bones, the change in bone structure as he sees the outlines of Castiel’s body breathing, his ribs showing their shape at the very end of each of Cas’ breaths. He never really had to tend to Castiel’s needs, and in turn really never got a chance to take in all the perfect lines and contours of his body…

Dean then realized he was ogling over an angel of the lord’ more than that; THEIR angel, Castiel. 

Okay, you’ve helped him all you could, you just need to leave him be, let him rest…

Dean tried to ration to himself that those previous thoughts about Castiel were just purely observation, nothing more… Even though as he remembered what he was taking in visually, his body was responding physically. Dean quickly rose to his feet, embarrassed and hoping that it never made him react like that again… Dean starts to walk away from the bed to sit down at the dingy old table that sat close to the doorway to the room, when he hears a shuffle coming from where he was just sitting. Before he can turn around to see what Castiel was going, he hears a light cough, being choked with attempted words.

“Please…. don’t go, Dean. I… need you.” Cas pushes the words across his lips desperately…


	2. Nightmare Of Mine

“Please…. don't go, Dean. I… need you." Cas pushes the words across his lips desperately…

Dean turns himself around to see the angel gazing at him with pained eyes. Cas had attempted to prop himself up on one elbow, barely being able to hold up his own weight. Dean returned to Cas’ side, sitting in the same spot he was before. 

“I’m here Cas. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Dean said in almost a whisper. Dean motions Cas to lie back down, pushing lightly on his chest with his hand. Once Cas is lying down once again, Dean grabs Cas’ hand softly. Castiel tightens his grip on Dean’s hand just slightly, not letting go. Dean moves himself towards Cas and readjusts himself so that he is sitting right next to the angel. He leans back, tilting his head down to relax.

He holds onto Castiel’s hand for only a few minutes, and Dean slowly fades into a deep sleep. He falls into the same sleepy dream that he has been having on and off for months now. He can’t really find the rhyme or reason to the dream, but he keeps taking the same journey, over and over again…

Dean is walking through a deserted forested area, trekking through broken and fallen trees, weaving through branches and wispy weeded plants; stepping on the murky overgrowth on the ground. He comes up to a clearing, seeing a small wooden cabin in close distance to him. He walks over to the Cabin window, looking in, but not able to see through the dusty, dirty windows that seem decades long untouched. He settles for going inside anyways. 

Dean opens the already parted open door more; it creaks loudly, as it swings open. The cabin is dirty, with layers of dust and grime covering everything. 

‘No one has visited or lived here for a long time..’ He says to himself.

He keeps walking through the cabin, taking in everything around him, but at the same time just floating through the rooms, as if time has no real management over where he goes. He’s been here. He just can’t remember where, or even who’s it was. He continues to the back area of the cabin; a small room with just a small protrusion of a wall to separate it from the rest of the room. He walks through the doorway, and all of a sudden, the room is large; the walls, the ceiling, the floor; everything is white. There are odd shaped machines and other figures around the room, splayed against the walls, but that’s not what Dean sees. Dean sees the long, white bed up against the wall in front of him. He inches himself towards the bed, wanting to see who was lying in the bed. As he comes closer, he realizes it is Sammy. 

‘Sammy, no..” Dean whimpers. Sam is lying in the hospital; he is gaunt, malnourished-looking, and as pale as a fresh snowflake. Dean slides his hand towards Sam’s, gripping it tightly. Sam’s hand is ice cold. Dean closes his eyes, resting his free hand over his forehead, every emotion running through his soul. 

When Dean opens his eyes back up, he is no longer in the pure white hospital room. He is now in another wooded area, but something is different. Something about this place is familiar… Pure…

Dean remembers. He is in purgatory. Dean is perched up at the top of a ridge. Dean hears a strange buzz coming from behind him. He turns around to see the portal to escape purgatory just feet from where he stands. Dean looks back over the ridge. And there is Cas. He is climbing the ridge, writhing his way up the steep ground, trying to gain leverage and make his way to Dean. Dean hurries towards the edge of the ridge, reaching his arm over the ledge as far as he can push it. Cas only has a few more feet to go and he can reach his hand, and pull him up to him. Just as Dean pushes his last bit of arm’s reach out over the ledge, he feels an insurmountable force pulling him away, losing coverage over the ledge every second. He sees Cas’ face, and it is full of fear, of empty hope, and of hurt. Dean tries to fight, but the force behind him lashes out a powerful tug, and in just a moment’s time, Dean is sucked through the portal, Cas’ face wretched with hurt and tears streaming down his cheeks being the last thing he sees before everything goes black. 

Dean now is inside a dark room. There is a crack of light some few feet in front of him. Dean walks towards the light, realizing that is a door. Dean pushes the door open slowly, peaking around to examine the room before him. It is a dark cellar-like room.. It resembled a larger version of Bobby’s panic room, but much worse… more tormented, more evil feeling than he could bare. The stench of death doused the walls and air around him. Dean then notices that at the other side of the room, there are people. He can’t make out who they are; there is more than one person though. 

Dean continues to walk towards the pairing, trying to realize who it was. As Dean creeps closer to the figures, he realizes one is in a chair of sorts. And the other person is standing over them. The man standing is short, wearing all black… A suit. 

‘Crowley’ Dean mutters to himself.

As Dean walks around the figures, Dean realizes that they cannot see him. As he walks closer, he recognizes who is sitting in the chair. It’s Charlie. 

Charlie is sitting in this worn, blood splattered chair, her arms and head restrained with leather straps, biting into her skin just slightly. As Dean looks at her, he sees that she is bloody. Everywhere. There are lacerations and slashes across her face. There is a gash across her collar bone that is down to the bone. It is bleeding all down the front of her clothes, seeping through the multi-colored knitted sweater and green over coat that she was wearing. It was the last thing Dean remembered her wearing; the last time he saw her… Dean continues to watch as he sees Crowley coming towards her, holding a metal spike shaped tool. He cringes and whimpers slightly, as he watches Crowley puncture Charlie’s shoulder with the spike; Charlie lets out a blood curdling scream at the top of her lungs. Her scream sounds of fear, terror, and helplessness. Dean can’t help but wish this was real so that he could save her; help her. She was like the little sister that he never got to have…. 

‘You see, Princess Peach, the problem you have is that your precious Mario and Luigi are never coming for you. They can’t hear you. They don’t even notice your missing. You’re in my castle, and you are never leaving.’ Crowley croaks out at Charlie, twisting the spike farther into her shoulder, tears streaming down her face, leaving clean streaks where the warm tears have washed the blood away.

‘Don’t you know by now, the Winchesters tend to use someone for all they have, and then leave them to rot. People that hang around the Winchesters…. They die.’ Crowley spits at her loudly, ripping the spike out of her shoulder with a blood gushing yank.

Dean backs away from the scene; he backs up as far as he can, until he hits a wall. Dean slowly slides his body down the wall, falling into a weak and small crumpled shell of a man, realizing that everyone he loves is gone, hurt, abandoned, tortured… They are all dead. And it’s all his fault. A single tear angrily slides down Dean’s cheek, burning his face with its warmth….

Dean violently jerks awake, his whole body covered in a fine layer of sweat.

‘It was just a bad dream’ Dean tells himself. He realizes the sun had come up slightly, funneling a small golden ray of light into the room, lighting up the room enough for Dean to be able to see everything around him. Dean looks down at the clock. Its 7:43am. Dean then realizes where he is. He looks down at the other side of the bed. There he is, his hurt angel. Castiel had flipped onto his right side, slid closer to Dean’s place on the bed, and not only kept his grip on the hand that Dean had offered him to hold last night, but now Cas had his other arm wrapped around that arm, too, essentially cuddling with Dean’s arm the most he could in the position they were sitting and laying in. 

Dean looks at Cas’ face. Dean never really saw the angel sleep too many times before. It’s always an odd sight for them to see Castiel doing something so… human. When Cas slept, or ate, or understood a reference the brothers made, they sometimes forgot that he was still an Angel of the Lord, and was still God’s little soldier. The angel’s face was serene and calm. There was no pain there… No hurt, no despair, no fear, nothing. The face that was seared into Dean’s mind that he has come to remember from his nightmares, was just that, a nightmare. He hated seeing Cas look at him like that. Cas had given him everything. He rebelled for him, killed his own for him, he did all the things he has done, for him. To think that Cas hated him, or was fearful of him, or worst of all hurt by him, it really did break Dean’s heart. He always lets down the ones he loves. It was inevitable.  
Same with Sam. Sam should not be dealing with this. He should have been the one doing these trials. Sam deserves to have a normal life, with that damn picket white fence, a girl that he loves, and hell, maybe even a dog. But that isn’t going to happen now. There was Sam, doing more than he should try to do, to try and help his big brother. And now it was his fault that Sam was weakening more every day, because of these God forsaken trials. At least they knew what they needed to do next. The last trial….

Dean looks down at the angel… He didn’t want to wake Cas up, but he needed to get things done, he needed to figure out what they were going to do next. Dean slowly slides his arm out of the sleeping angel’s grip, slowly rising from his place on the bed. Dean decides to go out, get everyone some breakfast, coffee, and hopefully a game plan by the time he came back.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean arrives back at the room to see Sam awake, sitting on the bed he was asleep on when he left. Sam was under the covers, curled into a ball, trying to stop himself from chattering his teeth. Sam was ice cold but sweaty. He was tired, and exhausted. He looked absolutely horrible. 

“Heya, Sammy, finally time you woke up.” Dean smirked at Sam, throwing the keys to the Impala on the rickety old table. 

“Yea, hey… What’d you get me?” Sam questions.

“Little bit of everything… You need to rebuild your strength, man. I got you a burger, some fries, some soup, and big ass bottle of water. Am I good or am I good?” Dean exclaims, ending his words with a sense of pride, getting all these things for his brother, taking care of him whether he likes it or not.

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam is able to coarsely respond.

Dean grabs a bag that he had set aside, stepping towards sleeping Cas. He sits back down where he was originally sitting the night before. Dean gently brushes his hand across the angel’s shoulder and shakes, waking Castiel up. He grumbles quietly, and scrunches his nose up a little, feeling distraught that someone would honestly be trying to wake him up. 

“Hey, Cas. Get up, got you some food.” Dean smiles at Cas’ face when he finally sees him open one of his eyes. Cas realizes that his shirt is still completely open once he turns himself onto his back again. Dean looks down to see the wound that he had cleaned that night before. To Dean’s surprise, it was almost healed. It looked as if it had been stitched up and healed for almost a week already. Must be easy, getting hurt when you fight, and not having to really deal with the pain and torture of being out of the game till you heal back up. 

Cas sits up, taking the bag that Dean had brought to him. He opens it to see 3 burgers, each burger being the size of his fist. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas says to Dean. “It is strange to partake in eating, when for so long I have never needed to… But burgers… they are very good. Did you know that Americans eat an average of 14 billion burgers a year?” 

Dean just looks at Cas with a smile. He always has to be such an odd angel. Not that he would ever admit it, but Dean loved that about Cas. He was so amazed by all the little details in life. Even in a world of angels, demons, heaven, and hell, Castiel managed to make everything count. 

“That’s great Cas. Thanks for the highlight reel from A History of Burgers. Now to get to business. We have got to get back to the bunker; we need to figure out what we are doing, and what our next move is. Capiche?” Dean commanded with his voice through the room. Cas and Sam just nod their head in agreement, and they eat their food. Once they get all their belongings stashed back into the trunk of the Impala, they set off on their trip back to their hobbit hole in the ground.


End file.
